


It's Only Fair to Warn You

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [31]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Big Brother Mycroft, Jealous Sherlock, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Oblivious Sherlock, Relationship(s), Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: For the prompt:"I feel it's only fair to warn you, Sherlock, that if you don't make a move on John soon then I'm going to"Up to the author whether Mycroft is genuinely interested in John or if it's just his way of getting Sherlock to get his act together about the whole thing.





	

**One**

Sherlock groaned when he heard his brother's footfalls on the stairs. He quickly pulled up his violin and started plucking at it in the most irritating fashion he could manage.

“You know that doesn't work, little brother,” Mycroft said in way of greeting.

“Why do you always choose to come here when John is out?”

Mycroft shot him a thin smile as he sat in the armchair. “One does try to avoid temptation, brother mine.” He twirled his umbrella as he poked at the rug with the ferrule.

Sherlock dumped the violin on the table.

Mycroft winced. “Be careful-”

“Do shut up, Mycroft. Now, what are you talking about? Temptation?”

“Ah, yes. You wouldn't know anything about that.” The government official set his umbrella aside and straightened his coat. “I, however, do. The next time I visit, dear brother, it will be when the good doctor is home.”

“Why? You couldn't possibly have any business with John.”

“Business, no.”

“Stop playing games, Mycroft. What are you getting at?”

Mycroft didn't answer. He just dropped a file on Sherlock's lap.

“A case, Mycroft?”

“You haven't got anything on, I checked with Gregory Lestrade. So yes, little brother. A case.”

Sherlock didn't trust the turn of events. “No, really, Mycroft.”

His brother raised his umbrella and tapped the file. “I'm quite certain you'll find it interesting.”

Resentfully, the detective flipped the file open. His gaze flickered over the case details. “Right. Yes. If I agree to take the case, will you leave?”

Mycroft sighed and heaved himself to his feet. He shook his head with regret. “Yes, Sherlock. I will. I expect results within three days.” As he turned and left, Sherlock picked up his violin and plucked at it. The government official determined that he would have to try again at a later date to make his brother see reason where one Doctor Watson was concerned.

 

**Two**

“No!”

“Sherlock, I will kick the door in.”

“Piss off,” Sherlock snapped.

The government official sighed, did he really think locking the door would keep him out? Kicking the door in had been a bluff. Mycroft pulled out the spare key to the flat and opened the door, then stepped in. “So good to see you, brother mine.”

The detective sent the Union Jack pillow flying towards Mycroft's head. “I should have known you had a key.”

“You gave it to me,” Mycroft stated the obvious.

Sherlock slumped back into his chair. “Years ago.”

“Still.” Mycroft used his umbrella to clear a path to the sofa - John's chair was piled full. “I see your doctor hasn't returned from the symposium.”

Sherlock gave an indelicate snort.

“Very dignified.”

“Can I have the key to my flat back?”

“You should know, little brother if you take this key, I'll have another made.”

“And you should know, brother mine, that I'll just change the locks.”

“Yes, and that will keep me out for about 5 minutes.” Mycroft sat. “When is John due back?”

“As if you don't know. You spy on both of us now.”

“Hmm… I try and keep some things a surprise.”

“That's bollocks and you know it.”

Mycroft smirked.

“What's the deal with you and John anyway?”

“Nothing, Sherlock. I assure you.” Mycroft smiled in a calculated manner. “Though you must admit he is intriguing. He did turn down a considerable sum of money by refusing to pass along information about you.”

“Spy, you mean.”

“In other words. Yes.”

“He had just met me.”

“That is my point.” Mycroft thudded the floor with his umbrella. “He can't be bought. That's a rare quality these days. It could be advantageous to someone like myself. Or it could be disadvantageous to you.”

“How?” Sherlock was curious now.

Mycroft shrugged. “Blackmail?”

“Pft. Let someone try it. What do I care?” Sherlock stood and walked over to the mantle where he started rearranging the items setting there.

“It would upset John.”

“It would make him furious. That would be your would-be blackmailer's biggest mistake.”

“Is that a threat Mycroft?” the younger Holmes questioned.

Mycroft let his eyebrows raise. “What do you think?

“I think it would be very foolish for anyone to threaten John in any way.” He pulled the knife out of the mantle and twirled it in his fingers before slamming down into the wood again. “I can take care of John.”

“Sentiment, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked, hoping to make his brother see his reaction for what it was.

“No. The only thing between me and endless boredom is him.”

Mycroft laughed. “Definitely sentiment.”

The detective stalked to the door and held it open. “Good day, Mycroft. I do believe you were leaving.”

The government official chuckled dryly and stood. “Do grow up, Sherlock. I can't do this forever.” With that, he walked briskly from the flat.

Sherlock frowned. “Do what forever?” He yelled down after him.

Mycroft just kept walking.

 

**Three**

Sherlock groaned when he saw the black sedan pull up just across from the crime scene.

John turned to look at him. “What's wrong?”

“Mycroft. I'll be back.” The detective ducked under the crime scene tape and crossed the road to where his brother was now stood by the car.

John watched his flatmate go, confused. Since when did Sherlock just walk away from a crime scene? He tried watching him walk to meet his brother, but got distracted by something Greg was saying.

“Hello, little brother,” Mycroft said, beating the detective to speaking. “I understand this has been quite the interesting little case.”

“What do you want this time?”

“John was quite the hero, bringing down the lurking gun man.”

“I helped.”

“No, Sherlock. You were the hostage.”

The detective glared. How the bloody hell did his brother know everything so damn quickly? “Have you nothing better to do than to spy on me?”

Mycroft raised a single eyebrow and didn't answer the question.

“Besides, I thought you equated heroism with stupidity.”

“Perhaps I was wrong. It does have its place. And its charm.”

“Leave off John.”

Mycroft smirked. “What was that, little brother?”

“Piss off. Go to one of your 'rule the world' meetings or something.”

“Oh, everything is unusually quiet in the world today. I have all the time I need to tarry. Perhaps I could persuade you and John to join me for dinner.”

“Why would you do that?”

He made a point to look as though he was thinking about it. “Why wouldn't I?”

“No.” Sherlock glared at his brother. “Whatever it is you're trying to pull... You want to recruit him.” He stepped up toe to toe with his brother. “You can't have him. I won't have you risking his life on some pointless mission. I'll say this once. Back. Off.”

“Or what?” Mycroft closed that gap even more. “What will you do, little brother?”

“Girls!” John snapped from a few yards away. “Why do you insist on behaving like children at crime scenes?”

The brothers each took a step back, both of them trying to look like the whole thing was the other one's fault.

“Good evening, John.” Mycroft inclined his head in the doctor's direction. How could his brother miss the besotted look that, even now, had crept onto John's face?

Sherlock closed the gap again and then shoved Mycroft back so he fell onto his car.

“Sherlock?! What the bloody hell?” John joined the two Holmeses.

“He wants you. He can't have you.”

John spluttered, “Wh... what?”

“He's trying to recruit you and I won't have it!”

The doctor laughed. “As if I'd work for Mycroft. Calm down, Sherlock. It's not going to happen.”

The detective stood there, glaring at his brother, nostrils flaring.

All Mycroft could do was sigh in frustration at how his brother kept missing the point. “Fine.” Mycroft climbed back into his car and wound the window down. “Laters, little bro.”

Sherlock scowled after the car.

John just frowned. “What the hell was all that about?”

Sherlock turned on his heel and headed towards the DI. “He wants to be a bloody pain in my arse. He's succeeding.”

 

**Four**

Sherlock had his upper body stuck up the chimney looking for his stash of cigarettes. It wasn't there. When he managed to wriggle back out of it, it was to discover that his flat had been invaded by his brother. “God damnit!” He smacked his head against the bricks and groaned. “Again? You only pissed me off a week ago.”

Mycroft made himself at home in John's armchair.

“You can't sit there!”

“I rather like this chair.” Mycroft made a show of running his hands over the arm rests.

Sherlock crossed to the sofa, walking over the coffee table along the way. “Why do you have to be such a complete arse?”

“Isn't that what big brothers are meant to do?”

“No. John is never an arse to his sister. Despite the fact she never pays any attention to him.”

“Yes, well... We all know why that is. It's regrettable that she chooses a relationship with alcohol over one with her brother.” Mycroft looked at his fingernails. At least his brother had come to his senses and it wasn't drugs that stood between them anymore. He cleared his throat. “It's a shame that he's so alone.”

“He's not alone.”

Mycroft could feel himself swell with pride at the fact his brother had actually got it; he understood. “No?”

“No. There's Gavin. And Mrs. Hudson.”

Mycroft let his eyes fall shut. For a fellow genius, his brother certainly had his blind spots. “Oh, brother mine, that's not what I meant.”

Sherlock looked around, incredibly confused. Until it hit him in the face, what Mycroft meant. Then he burst out laughing. “You mean you.”

“Of course not.” But the government official tried to sound unconvincing.

“John's happy. So, sod off.”

“I need to talk to you about the upcoming visit to Mummy's.”

“Boring.”

Mycroft sighed. “That may be so, but it still needs to be discussed.”

“Just send a car like you always do.”

“I need some guarantee that you'll be here.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm your big brother and I know more about you than you'd care to admit.”

“But-”

“No, Sherlock, I am going to phone John, and ask that he be here on Sunday. You seem to behave when he's around.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Now, kindly find your way to the door.”

“Why? Scared John's going to come in and see me in his seat? Maybe he'll sit on my lap?”

“Out! Out, out, out, out!” Sherlock started pelting his brother with anything and everything that came to hand. Mycroft had no choice but to retreat.

“I'll see you at Mummy's, then.” The government official ducked out the door and closed it behind him, chuckling. His brother was almost there.

 

**Five**

Sherlock thought the next time he saw his pain in the arse of a brother would at the manor, but he was wrong.

John had insisted on dragging him to the surgery for a check up and comically he'd somehow managed to get Mycroft there too. It was after hours as that was the only time the government official had free.

John stood in the hall, hands on hips. He pointed at Sherlock. “You, in there on the left.” Then he pointed at Mycroft. “You, on the right.”

“We're still too close together,” Sherlock grumbled as he stalked to the indicated examination room.

Mycroft made a point of being oblivious to the instruction and walked straight into the same room s his brother.

Sherlock jostled his brother with his shoulder. “Get out. I'm an adult. I don't need you to hold my hand anymore.”

“I'm not here for you,” he growled back.

John wasn’t long wherever he had been. “Mycroft-”

“I've seen his bum before,” he pointed out. “Changed it enough times when it was stinky.”

The doctor snorted as he grabbed his stethoscope. “I don't know why I even tried. You probably have my office bugged anyway and you'd know exactly what the results of my exam were in minutes.”

Mycroft smirked.

“Obviously.” Sherlock pointed out, folding his arms petulantly.

“That doesn't explain why you want him here while I do yours…”

Mycroft smiled blandly. “Fair play?” he suggested.

Sherlock snorted at that. “You don't know the meaning of the words.”

“It's to do with sport… or something.”

Sherlock laughed and glanced at John. The detective knew what if meant, John had said it enough.

“Fine,” John agreed, but I won't have you two sniping at each other. Sherlock, get that shirt off.”

“Don't I get one of those paper gowns?”

John rolled his eyes. “You went to Buckingham Palace in a sheet. No.”

“I went to Buckingham palace in a sheet to annoy him,” he nudged Mycroft. “I knew he'd be on the end of that suspicious trip. He always is.”

“Well he is here now. So try annoying him again.”

The martyred sigh the detective let out was one of his finest ever, but he started unbuttoning his shirt. As he did, he caught a strange look on his brother's face. It was directed at John and he didn't like it.

Sherlock stood up, shirt half open and went to sit in the doctor's chair.

“What the-”

“Mycroft can look at the back of you now rather than the front.”

“Alright.” John was completely perplexed. He glanced at Mycroft but no explanation was forthcoming. “This may be a bit cold.” He pressed the stethoscope to Sherlock's chest and listened to his heart. He smirked as Sherlock flinched back. “Is the bloody proud stuck up detective scared of something cold?”

“I swear, you chilled it.”

“Hush and breathe.” John moved the stethoscope around, front and back until he was happy.

“Happy my heart is still there and hasn't gone anywhere?”

“I know it hasn't gone anywhere,” he countered.

“Do my ears deceive my, or did my brother just admit to having a heart?”

John chuckled and actually exchanged smiles with Mycroft. A fact that annoyed Sherlock to no end. He stood up, shirtless, and stormed out the room.

“What the-” John cut off at the sight of Mycroft's frown. “Do you know what that was about?”

“Mm, yes. I believe that heart of his is causing problems.” Mycroft followed his brother from the room. “I don't believe John was finished, Sherlock,” he said to the back of his baby brother's head.

“I am not doing that-” he pointed aggressively at the doctor's open door. “With you in there.”

“Oh? Why not?”

Sherlock spun to face him. “You know bloody well why not.”

“I am merely a patient, but if it bothers you that much...”

Sherlock crossed to stand in front of his brother. “Find. Your own. Bloody doctor.”

“Why? He's a GP. He sees lots of people every day. Not. Just. You!” He thudded his finger into Sherlock's chest.

The disgruntled detective actually drew back to deliver a punch, but John had joined them at the commotion and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock's arms flailed and his fists flew, but they didn't connect.

“Mycroft, perhaps you'd better leave,” the doctor grunted out.

“But-”

“Now, please.”

It was to all three men's surprise that the government official actually did what he was told and left.

 

**Five+**

John watched Sherlock's knee bouncing in the back of the car. He knew his friend was on edge at the prospect of spending time with his brother. If only he could reach over and take that pale hand in his own and soothe him. Ah, well. He couldn't and that was a fact.

Sherlock bounded out of the car in the direction of the drive and the gate they had just come in through. It was a matter of seconds before Mycroft's car pulled into the drive and he stepped out, grabbing his brother and stopping him in his tracks.

“Brother-mine, remove your hands,” Sherlock ground out through clenched teeth or I won't be responsible for my actions.”

It didn't take much to get his arms around Sherlock and pin him still. “Behave, little brother.”

“No!” He growled.

“You will behave, because I have something to say and you need to hear it.” Mycroft waited until Sherlock quit struggling. “It's as simple as this. If you don't make a move on John soon then I'm going to.” He let his brother go and stepped away.

Sherlock scowled at him. “That's what all this has been about?!”

Mycroft inclined his head.

“You sod!” He wanted to lash out at his brother, but Mummy had stepped out and was looking on. “Stay away from John.” Sherlock immediately crossed over to the doctor's side and stood just a bit closer than he normally would.

“What?” The doctor was utterly confused.

“Boys!” Mrs. Holmes yelled. “Inside. Now!”

“But, Mummy, Mycroft is-”

“Enough! Come here. Now!”

Sherlock stayed right on John's heels, so close that he stepped on the back of one of them.

“Ow!” John almost swore, but bit it back. “Watch where you're walking.”

“Sorry.” The detective glared at Mycroft as if daring him to come another step near.

“What is wrong with you?” John asked.

“Doesn't matter,” he glanced at his mother daring her to say something either.

When they got inside, the detective sat next to John. It would have been difficult to get a piece of paper between them.

“Budge over,” John demanded, leaving off 'you git' in deference to Mrs. Holmes' presence.

“Don't want to.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Mr. Holmes yelled from the door. “Behave.”

Sherlock stood up to face the eldest Holmes and then smiled. “Hello, Dad.”

Siger smiled and hugged first one son then the other, to their obvious discomfort. Next he shook John's hand. “So this is Doctor Watson who I've heard so much about.”

The detective rounded on his brother. “What have you been saying?”

It was all Mycroft could do not to laugh with glee at Sherlock's jealousy.

“He's not yours!” Sherlock snarled.

“What's with the sudden hostility-” John cut off as the youngest Holmes wrapped his arms around him.

“He's mine. You are mine, aren’t you, John?”

The doctor looked perplexed. “I ah-”

Sherlock chose that moment to kiss him full on the lips.

John let him carry on and then pulled back, blinking confused. “Sherlock?”

“John.” He made a point of glancing at Mycroft. “Will you go out with me?”

“Out. Like on a date? A proper date? Where we eat and we talk and we let Angelo put his ridiculous candle on the table?” John was grinning like mad. “That kind of date?”

“Don't be thick. We do that anyway. I was hoping there could be the holding of hands and kissing and...” Sherlock blushed when he remembered his parents were looking on. “And stuff.”

“I win,” he told his brother after John had kissed him again.

Mycroft ruffled his curls on the way to the table. “It was never a competition, little brother.”

“Oh!” Sherlock let go of John and stared at his brother. “Oh! You... You set me up! You wanted me to ask John out!”

Mycroft smiled. “Are you going to take it back?”

The detective whirled back around and hugged John again. “Never.”

John began, “Do you have any idea how long it's been since-”

“Shh,” Sherlock whispered, still holding John.

Violet Holmes beamed. “Let's leave the two lovebirds alone for a bit. Come along Siger. Mycroft”

“No!” Sherlock yelled.

John frowned. “No?”

The detective didn't speak.

“What is it?”

“I don't know what I'm doing.”

It was difficult, but the doctor managed not to laugh. Barely. “You keep on doing the same things you've always done, only now I get to do this.” John took Sherlock's hand and held it. “Nothing really changes except what we want to change.” He stretched up and kissed the detective's cheek.

“That makes no sense!”

John laughed.

“Catalogue it up there first,” he tapped the detective's temple. “And then tell me it doesn't make sense.”

Sherlock's eyes got that 'I'm visiting my Mind Palace' look for several long moments, then he emerged. “What you're saying is we were already in a relationship of sorts. The rest just makes it better.”

John laughed again and retook Sherlock's hand. He dragged him towards the door the others had left through moments ago.

“This doesn't mean I'm going to start being nice to Mycroft, you know,” Sherlock declared.

“Good. The world would probably end if you did.” John didn't care about anything, he was the happiest he'd been in years and, from the look on Sherlock's face, so was he.

 


End file.
